Chapter 18 #2
Fans loved to ship their favorite celebrities for some reason.
It made them feel a part of that celebrity’s life.
But the only part of my life I allowed them to enter was the one on stage.
I gave them everything when I performed—every part of me.
That’s why I needed to maintain a private life for myself.
I never would’ve agreed to fake dating Ashley if it hadn’t been Noelle asking. That was the irony—the woman I really loved asking me to fake a romantic pairing with someone I didn’t love. But I’d do anything for Noelle, always would. Except I didn’t try harder to contact her all those years ago.
At the time Australia seemed light years away from England, and I didn’t want to cause trouble on our first massive tour. Baker Street had a tight hold on us. Most of the time management didn’t even allow us to leave our hotel rooms.
I’m sure Baker Street had loads of control over Noelle too, just like her father did—or tried to. He’d thrown every opportunity her way to get her to give up her PR job, but I knew she took her job as seriously then as she did now.
Success ran through her family like a birthright. Her mother, before she passed away, was a physician, her father consulted with presidents and PM’s, and Noelle’s twin sister had gone into medicine like their mother, which Noelle’s father had plotted out for her.
She always wanted to prove herself to her father, prove that she could be a success in her chosen field without his control.
She was a great pianist and singer but didn’t have the personality to perform.
She still wanted to be involved in the music industry, and I knew people in the business respected her. This promotion meant the world to her.
So, it meant the world to me, too.
Someone banged on the trailer door. “Five minutes, Con.”
I didn’t know if my thoughts about the past and Noelle had prepped me for a good show or fucked me. I reckon I’d find out.
I downed some water and left the trailer. On my way to the stage, I ran into Ji-yoon.
“Good show, yeah?”
“Great crowd for sure. Have a good one.”
Ji-yoon had been mostly immune from the backstage drama as her management had her on a whirlwind of promo and engagement during this tour, separate from our own.
She reminded me of myself at the start of Five2’s breakup—looking for an identity past her K-pop group, a manager still trying to control every aspect of her life, not quite sure about her musical direction, looking for validation.
It messed with your mind. I couldn’t help thinking how much better I would’ve managed it all if Noelle had been by my side, but maybe that was an excuse.
I spotted her with her clipboard darting between the stagehands and security and the backup dancers, who had a break during my set. Seeing her in her element strengthened my resolve to do whatever it took to make this a success for her. She deserved it.
The announcer blasted my name from the speakers, and I jogged onto the stage to the screaming crowd.
***
Forty-five minutes later, I finished my encore—a Five2Go song—and exited the stage with my guitar raised above me head and sweat soaking my body.
A crew member handed me a bottle of water, and I chugged it as I dodged a swarm of people setting up for Ashley.
I snuck backstage to take in the AC—a definite must here in Phoenix.
Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes. I always needed a minute or two to decompress immediately following a show.
So many tricks I learned on my own after I left the group, coping mechanisms that Baker Street should’ve provided to us as young, green lads.
We all developed our own coping methods in the band—none of them good.
Someone touched my arm, and my eyes flew open to see the best coping method of all.
Noelle smiled that smile. “That was a fantastic set, Conor. Your solo stuff is perfection.”
“You’ve been avoiding me since our tour bus...rendezvous.”
“Sounds like the title of a song—Tour Bus Rendezvous.”
“Don’t tempt me. I just might write it...if I can stop wanking off to it.”
She snickered and blushed at the same time. “I think we should squash those cheating rumors. I’m not ready to tarnish your image just to burnish Ashley’s. You can both come out of this tour looking like heros, and Ashley can press reset on her image.”
“I’m on board, boss.” I tapped my fingers to my forehead. “But then why are you sneaking up to me in the dark, backstage, coming on to me?”
“I touched your arm, you perv.” She smacked my shoulder. “I wanted to let you know I reached Louise, Gordon’s assistant. I found her on Instagram and DM’d her.”
“Did she tell you what happened with the phones?”
“We didn’t get that far. She’s still in England, so it was late there, but it looks like she read the message. If Ian’s right and Louise dealt with the phones, maybe she remembers protocol.”
“Okay, Nancy Drew. Let’s see where this leads.” I reached out and wrapped a lock of her hair around my finger. “In the meantime...”
She glanced over her shoulder. “What did I just tell you? We should take a few steps back to let the cheating stuff die down.”
“You’re absolutely right.” I pulled her in for a kiss, slipping my hands beneath her blouse.
Pressing her body against mine, she melted into me...for a second. Then she placed her hands on my chest and pushed me gently. “Later.”
I called to her back as she walked away, “I live for later.”
As I sank into a chair behind the curtain to listen to Ashley’s set, a stagehand came by with a beer. “Want one?”
“Thanks, mate.” I took the cold bottle from his hand and pressed it against my forehead before taking a sip.
Ashley launched into her first song, an upbeat pop tune about reclaiming her power. I hoped that wasn’t some kind of signal to her fans. Even if Ashley didn’t engineer this cheating rumor, she planned to lean into it, which she’d made clear to Tomo.
In a way, I couldn’t blame her. This business put pressure on you, and artists were willing to do crazy things to stay relevant. I’d like to think my motives for the stunt relationship with Ashley rose above curating my image, but we were all guilty of it.
Ashley’s voice held for the next few songs, but by the fourth and fifth numbers I could hear the strain in her tone. I predicted at least autotune in her future sets on this tour. I just hoped she didn’t go all out for lip synching. That would trash this tour and everyone on it.
She compensated for her lack of vocal prowess by allowing the audience to carry the tunes. They shouted the lyrics back to her, and she punctuated them with a few, yeahs, alrights, and lemme hear ya’s. I preferred it to lip synching.
As she wrapped up her solo encore, I got ready to join her on stage for our last song. I hated this part of the show. Our song was a banger for sure, but the pretense with her killed my whole vibe.
On my way to the stage, I mumbled under my breath, “Do it for Noelle. Do it for Noelle.”
I added a little spring to my step as I joined Ashley. She held her hands out to me, and I grabbed them, pulled her toward me, and rested my forehead against hers.
That interaction ignited the audience, and they started chanting, “Conley, Conley, Conley.”
That ridiculous shipping name.